Trouble in Toon Town
by Dark SpellMaster
Summary: Three years after Toon Town was given to the Toons by Marvin Acme trouble is brewing yet again when several old classic characters from the early days of animation are being murdered. Eddie Valiant is on the case of a missing toon and gets swept up into the mystery with Officer Rick Flint being assigned to help him after a certain Rabbit gets caught up in the case.
1. Prologue: Little Lost Lamb

Paste your do

 **AN: Bottom section will cover terms in regard to slang from the 1940s. Hopefully I'll get their voices right.**

 _Copyright: All characters belong to their respective studios. Eddie, Roger, Jessica and all characters created for,_ _ **Who framed (Censored) Roger Rabbit**_ _, and_ _ **Who Plugged Roger Rabbit**_ _belongs to Gary Wolf. Rick Flint, C.B. Maroon and others belong to Marvel and Disney comics._

Setting: Taking place three years after the events of _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_ and the graphic novel the _Return of Doom_.

* * *

 **Prologue: Little Lost Lamb**

Gladie the lamb huddled under her coat as the chill of the night air cut into her pink skin. She hated winters in L.A., always had. The nights were always chilly, even if the days were in the mid-sixties. The cold was one of the reasons she had moved from England to California, to get away from the freezing wild winters in Suffolk county where she had lived most of her life. The other reason was that she had wanted to become a star like Carol Lombard and be in the Shorts before her favorite actress's films. Everyone in the theater circuit knew that if you went to Hollywood Land you'd either come back famous, or end up working as a stage hand back home. No one had warned her of the dangers that came with working there. No one had told her about the skeevy agents, or the weak roles that she would start with, or the debt she would rack up from taking acting lessons that lead to nowhere. No one had warned her about the deceptive creeps that would use her and then drop her hard. No one had warned her about any of that.

Five years ago she had been playing bit parts in Disney shorts as one of the sheep that was guarded by Pluto from the coyote Bent Tail. She'd even tried out for the lead in The Legend of Coyote rock, but had lost out to the more energetic Blackie Sheep, who went on to date the handsome dog for a while. She had managed to get a larger part in the follow up Sheep Dog, but one could only go for so far playing a bit role; And she wanted to move onto bigger and better things then playing second fiddle to a dog and a coyote. So, she quit; left for Warner Brothers, but parts there were still small. Then onto other studios, but there wasn't a lot of work for sheep. Who wanted to keep playing a farm animal all the time when others were getting known for their comedy or dramatic acting. Like that pair of Chipmunks who were making it big on the Disney lot.

It wasn't that long ago that she'd tried to get a part in one of Disney's features, but they weren't looking for sheep. Money had become tight and and the cost of living had gone up after the war. So Gladie had decided to work elsewhere for a while, till the roles started to come back, but then, things changed.

She reached into her pockets, and felt the wad of cash and shivered more. She had to make payments for her apartment somehow, and sometimes that meant doing things that she never thought she would do. Wool was a big thing for costumes, especially when they were filming outdoors. Gladie patted the money, as she muttered to herself, "Three bags full, at least they left some on my tail."

The idea of selling her wool had been devastating to her, and the only reason she knew about the business was because of a few choirs' girls at the Ink and Paint club where she worked. During the summer they'd come in after two weeks with shorter coats, surprising Gladie.

"Oh come on Gladie, it's not so bad," Lana told her during a break while they were rehearsing. "Besides, it's too warm for so much wool, you know."

"But that's _your_ wool," Gladie pointed out, disgusted at her friends actions. To a sheep, taking off your wool for money was akin to selling blood, or hair, or teeth or other parts for a quick fix of cash. It wasn't done. Or, if it was done, it was for a proper reasons, such as if you were working on a farm like her mother did as part of the fashion industry. "You shouldn't so willfully sell it like that. Besides look what you're wearing you look like a…"

"A what?" Lana crossed her arms, tapping her hooves as she waited for a response. Gladie just shrugged and waved her hand at the garish green and orange strapless short sundress that the other sheep was wearing.

"A Tijuana Toon."

There was an audible silence in the club, and then a sharp slap echoed around the room. Several of the workers gasped seeing Gladie stumble back with a bright red hoof print on her face. That mark would have looked funny to the humans and made them laugh if they had seen it. But for the members of the club this was less then funny. One of the other sheep, Maggie, quickly rushed over to Lana as the ewe was visibly shaking from the comment.

"Take it back! I'm not one of those Eight pager girls!"

"Shhh, Hon, it's okay. I'm sure Gladie didn't mean what she said," Maggie told the girl as she wrapped her arms around the younger sheep, and glared coolly at Gladie who had pushed herself up and was rubbing the mark on her face, "Did she."

Gladie glanced around at the others that were watching. She could feel their gazes, as if temping her to say anything more. It was a threat that was real, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to fight back. Casting away her pride, and knowing the battle would not be worth fighting, she raised her head and sniffed.

"No, of course not. I was just joking."

Maggie, seemingly okay with the apology, nodded, and quickly turned to lead Lana away before more of a fight broke out. That was how Gladie had felt two years ago, before Dusty, and the night clubs and the parties.

Dusty, a smooth talking toon coyote that had been preforming at the club nightly with a songs and dance act, and had worked his way into Gladie's heart. She had, after the whole wool incident, been avoiding the other choir girls, so no one warned her about how Dusty operated. He'd get a girl into his corner, wine and dine her, and have her pay for everything. Whispers swirled around about him and his less than honest intentions, but Gladie wasn't interested at the time about rumors and hearsay. She had wanted a friend and he had been that to her.

Dusty had been the ray of light in her darkness. She had been sure that they were going to do all sorts of things together. That was until things changed that last summer, when her money was drying up. She'd spent her savings on things for them. A nice apartment, clothing for him, and the finest cigars that she could afford. They would go out to the night clubs in toon town, away from the Ink and Paint Club and smooze with the likes of Bent tail from the Disney studios and the Big Bad wolf. She was on cloud nine at first, and then it all came crashing down…literally.

Dusty held lavish parties sometimes in the apartment, and the parties could get out of hand when there were some _"wild critters"_ that came for the festivities. There were holes in the wall, broken windows, torn up couches and ripped up wall paper. Worst of all was the night that Ferdinand the Bull got chased up onto the chandelier by a gaggle of overly amorous geese, and the whole ceiling came crashing down on everyone's heads. Sure it was funny, as the ceiling didn't fall until the last moment, leaving Ferdinand hanging by the remains of the light overhead. But the whole situation cleaned out her bank account, which meant no more parties or events.

Dusty had not taken this well, and had become distant and wasn't his usual self around her. The landlord had insisted on her paying for the damages, so she had doubled her work at the Ink and Paint. It got to the point where she was working twelve hour shifts by switching with other workers so that she could get extra pay. Every time she brought money home Dusty would be waiting for her with a kiss and insist on them celebrating in some way. And Gladie…Gladie just wanted him to be happy. So what was a bit of a late payment here or there? So long as she had Dusty nothing could go wrong.

Until the day when she came home from work and found him gone. All of his items were absent, everything they had owned together had vanished. The cooking utensils, the china, the jewelry –his _and_ hers – were all missing. He'd taken everything, and left only a note. It was a simple read, he was never one to mince words, thanking her for all their time together, but that he had to leave. There was family to take care of, his sick mother, but in time he promised to be back.

So she waited, clinging to this hope, Gladie worked and waited and waited and worked. Yet Dusty never came back. She stared to wonder if she had scared him away. She blamed herself, pondering if she was too hard on him. Yet, despite that notion, she was also praying to some sort of higher power that she could see him again, and in a twisted way her wish came true. She did see him again on her way home one night from a rather grueling day of work, in the arms of another toon, a cat girl, who's tail was twisted in his as they sat side by side waiting for a bus to take them home after a night of dancing.

Gladie was shocked. So much so that her normally reserved nature was shattered by what she was seeing. She walked over to them and cleared her throat. Dusty, and the girl he was rubbing noses with, glanced up, and for a moment there was recognition in his dark black eyes.

"Dusty, I…I wasn't expecting to see you here…" Gladie glanced at the cat woman who looked between them curiously.

"Dusty, Sugar," the cat woman drawled in a rich southern belle accent, "Who is this woman? Do you know her?"

Gladie got a good look at the woman that sat next to the man that she thought was the love of her life. The gray furred feline was dressed in a bell shaped blue gown, a large floppy straw hat with a ribbon around it, with pearls and white gloves to compliment the appearance. She certainly appeared to be a toon with money and class from a well to do family. Gladie felt her yellow eyes scan her over scrutinizing every detail of what she was wearing. The simple cotton light blue dress with the white smock, indicating a waitress at a dinner, (which Gladie had taken up after working at the Ink and Paint wasn't cutting the cost of the renovation) was a complete contrast to the elegant woman that was sitting with Dusty.

Dusty was observing her too, with ….sympathy, or was it pity, Gladie couldn't decide. But when the cat woman asked if he knew her, he just turned his attention to the lady and said shortly, "I don't think so."

"Well she seems to know you," the cat woman said seriously and Dusty gave Gladie another once over before adding.

"Oh, now I remember. You were the waitress that got me my coffee the other night. Nice to see you again."

Gladie stared at him. Her instinct was to wait a few beats before doing something funny with the moment, but she couldn't. Everything inside her had twisted up, and she felt tears forming in her eyes. Big, wet, sopping tears that would rain out over the two of them if she stayed there any longer. Without a word she turned and ran, not seeing that the coyote had started to get up to go after her, but was held back by the hand of his date.

It was after this meeting that Gladie had changed her plans. She wasn't worried any more about the apartment, now all that mattered was getting Dusty home to her. She would win him back, _somehow_. That feline fatale wasn't going to keep him from her, Gladie had determined. She would find a way to doll herself up and make a better ewe of herself. So the money she had been saving to fix the apartment was kept and she broke her contract with the landlord. He'd not been pleased, but she didn't care, she had her man to win back and that was all that mattered.

Gladie had taken up in a shady apartment in the more rundown section of toon town. At night she could hear the sounds of police sirens and screaming. Strange shadows lurked on the corners, and she tried to ignore them. She spent money on glamming herself up. Makeup and clothing that cost her more than a thousand simoleons, plus shoes, hats, gloves, scarves, jewelry, whatever she could to make herself stand out. Yet, even with all that going for her, she still couldn't face him. The cost added up and soon enough she found herself diving more and more into parties and night clubs outside of the Ink and Paint for comfort.

And she found it in the wrong places, gambling away her rent, to try to impress someone, anyone, just so that word would get back to Dusty. Money gets you into places, but when you lose it, you have to pay it back, something which Gladie learned very quickly. Villains, ghouls, and toons that were used as antagonists ran hidden casinos away from the eyes of the Toon Town P.D. as well as its lead detective, Captain Cleaver. You either paid up, or there was always ways to make you pay, and some of those ways involved using the illegal substance known as Dip. This was how things worked in the Toon Town Underworld.

Gladie, she knew she had to make money fast, and so, one night, on bended knee, in the bleak month of January, she bleated her case before Lena and Maggie.

"I need to know where you sold your wool." She begged them as the two lambs glanced between each other nervously. "Please, I'm begging you here. I know before I acted like a jerk to the both of you but…"

"Gladie, we would tell you …" started Lena and she looked at Maggie who sighed as she rubbed her head.

"We got out of that racket a while ago."

"You were right, it wasn't worth it…." started Lena, but jumped back when Gladie suddenly grabbed her by the front of her blouse. "He…Hey what gives!"

"PLEASE!" she nearly shrieked, "I need that money! If I don't have it I'll…they'll…" Tears ran from her big eyes as Maggie tried to pull the lamb's hooves from her friend's shirt.

"Calm down, Gladie…"

"What the heck is going on?" asked Lena as she mopped up Gladie's face. "I heard you and Dusty bro…"

"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" Gladie shouted and again Lena backed up, scared by the crazy look in her friend's eyes. "I'm going to get him back…just you wait…I know I will. I just need the money to pay off those vultures and then I'll have the time to dress up more. He'll see me and…we'll be happy again."

The two lambs look at one another, a mutual glimpse of concern crossing their faces.

"Listen, you really don't need him…" Maggie said softly, but then stopped seeing the look of…fear, anger, insanity, cross over Gladie's face. She cringed. Toons that had been dumped in some cases fell into desperate straits and it was clear that that's what was going on with Gladie. But she didn't want to be involved in it, the sheep was too far gone for her and she had her own life to worry about.

Pulling out a notebook and a pen from her pocket she started to write as Lena watched on in surprise, talking out of the side of her mouth. "What are you doing?"

"Giving her a fix; it's a short one, but there's nothing we can say when she's like this." Maggie whispered back. She peeled off the page, and folded it, holding it out to Gladie, who, trembling, took the paper in both hooves and looked at it.

"Is this…" she asked the non-question and Maggie nodded firmly.

"The last address that we went to, you might have to ask around, but that was the place the last time to get sheered."

"It moves around," added Lena, who had her hooves on her hips. "And don't get the cut too close or you'll be sorry. They don't use normal sheering devices, you know."

"Th…Thank you, so much!" Gladie clutched the paper like it was dear life and stumbled out of the club in a daze. The two sheep watched with worry and pursed their lips.

It didn't take too long to find the dank back room where the sheering was done. The process was painful, but worth it in the amount of cash. Most sheep only had a small percentage of the wool taken off, but Gladie had it almost all gone. Now she was wishing that she had brought along one of her sweaters.

"Too cold," she muttered, "It's just too cold."

The sound of her hooves steps echoed around her as she walked along the dark street. Ice was on the road, and she slipped once in a while as she moved along under the flickering lights. She'd been dizzy and nauseous as she'd walked from the location, and now she was lost. What was worse was that the room had been in LA proper and not in Toon Town. LA was huge compared to where Gladie normally traveled, and she felt very alone in the quiet winter city.

As she walked she tried to hum to herself to cut through the bitter wind, thinking of times with Dusty and how jealous the feline would be when they were back together. She could taste the smirk coming to her lips as she partially laughed at the plans she was making.

That all changed when she heard the footsteps behind her. Gladie paused and searched about carefully. She was in a part of town she'd never been in before. Bill board advertising different drinks and human only night clubs from December were ripping and falling apart. Trash from some dumpsters blew around and caught her off guard, making her squeak when it brushed her legs. That was when she heard the footsteps coming up slowly behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to take a peek. They were methodical, slow, and deliberate. It sent a chill to her bone.

From the foggy night air a figure appeared. Tall, lean, and covered in shadow. The person stared at her for a moment, as if figuring something out.

"Ah, Hello? I'm a bit lost, can you tell me where we are," Gladie asked the stranger, but the silhouette said nothing. She rubbed her hooves together nervously as she continued, "You see I was out and I… seemed to have lost my way to where I was going. Can you point me back to Toon town?"

The figure still said nothing, and, for a long time all Gladie could hear was very soft breathing. Theirs's or hers, she wasn't sure. Then it started to move towards her, in that same deliberate manner that she had seen moments before. The footsteps slow and precise, just as she had heard seconds before. An arctic feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach, as if she had swallowed a large stone. That was about the time that she saw a hand reach into the breast pocket of what she could see was the person's long dark blue trench coat. The way the hand moved, and what it retrieved from inside, made her grasp she was in danger, even before she realized it was a gun the individual was holding.

"Oh Gosh!" she screamed as she turned and ran. Sprinting through the streets, she used her toon speed to get ahead of the stranger, the footsteps still followed but they never quickened. She hurried down one alley to another street, peeking out behind parked cars, only to see the creature with the gun still following her.

"Gosh! Oh My Gosh!" her thoughts whirled as she dashed away from her hiding spot. Someone had been sent to kill her; that was the only conclusion that she could draw from the situation. The vultures had sent someone to kill her outright. She tore down a little walkway and out into a busy road. Cars honked as she dodged them with the drivers screaming at her.

"Get out of the road, ya crazy Toon!"

Gladie spun about, searching for anyone to help her. She scurried over to pedestrians, begging for help, but they just laughed, thinking it was all a gag, as toons were wont to do.

"Please ya gotta help me! There's a crazy gun man after me!" she cried out, but they just shrugged her off. "Anyone, please….help, he's gonna kill me!"

Gladie glimpsed around and soon spotted the stranger heading across the street. She brayed and darted off again, pushing past humans who were flabbergasted by her, and darted into the nearest alley. At first she was able to hide, covered in the trash, but then she heard the steps as they drew closer and closer.

Outside the alley people were wondering what was going on. It wasn't usual for a Toon to be shooting a Short at this time of night, but most were hesitant to make a move. The stalker that had been following her didn't look like someone they wanted to mess with and were starting to leave, when a sudden scream rang out from deep inside the alleyway.

"PLEASE….NO…DON'T…!"

 _BANG!_ The sharp ring of a gunshot echoed through the night air. A few men rushed over to see what had happened, but when they searched the alley, no one was there to be found.

Two months later in March, a newspaper boy was doing his rounds when he came upon a gruesome discovery. One that haunted him for a long while after. The cops who were called in to deal with the reported remains found were also equally disturbed by what they saw when they got there.

Laying in the trash was the remains of Gladie Lamb, with the simolians that she'd had in her pockets were still there. Her wool missing, and her coat wrapped around her form in an unusual way. That wasn't the disturbing part, no, what was far worse was the condition of her remains, which looked like a mixed love child of uncanny valley syndrome and Dip. The scene was enough to send Lt. Santino to cover his mouth with a handkerchief, and make him wonder who would be this cruel to a Toon. She had been missing for weeks, reported so by her boss, her ex, and a few co-workers. Now he was going to have to figure out a way to break the news to them that their friend was dead, and the police had no idea how it was done.

* * *

 **Terms and Slang of the 1940s:**

 **Simolians –** Toon Town money apparently

 **Tijuana Toon** -A term made for toons in regard to referring to a person that looks like they came from a Tijuana Bible.

 **Tijuana Bible** -an eight page comic that had explicit sexual material based on preexisting comic characters from the 1930s and 1940s. It's pretty much the equivalent to the modern day hentai doshinji (comics).

 **Eight –Pager** -Another reference to the Tijuana Bible. The books were only eight pages long and were also called this as well. They were sold under store counters for a few pennies. No one has a clue who the artist were in most cases.

 ** _Hair selling_** –during the period of the depression and even now, women will sell their hair for cash. The Wool selling is the same idea here.


	2. Chapter 1: The Missing Mongoose

_**Copyright: All characters are owned by Gary K. Wolf and the Walt Disney Company.**_

Chapter 1: The Missing Mongoose

 _Toons are a unique thing._ That's how animators that created them viewed them. People simply thought that they were there to entertain, but that wasn't exactly what the animators had in mind when the toons came to life. They were special, different, and made up of imagination in so many ways. Part of someone's hopes and dreams, and part of their own will, which came into existance after they made their first appearance.

See a Toon comes to life after they first get fully animated, and are given a voice and a set of rules to follow. That's how it's always been. The animator breathes life into them as their pencil creates the drawings, and then those are put on cels, painted, copied, and then run one right after another. Every movement of the toon is first designed by the animators. Every smile, every exaggeration, every bit of fancy foot work or prat falling, comes from the animators mind and heart. And it's their heart that connects to that of the toon that makes them real, because if people can suspend their disbelief for _just_ long enough, that toon becomes real to them.

It's that suspension of disbelief, those feelings of joy in people's hearts that give the toon their own will. Humans in the theaters will watch them on screen, marvel at their skills, laugh and cry at what they do and what befalls them, and humans also dream. Children will dream about the fun the toons have when they're not on the stage, adults will wonder what their life is like off screen, and the more that people think and wonder about the toon, the stronger the toon's own will gets until it has a life of its own.

Toons can be created anywhere, at any time, so long as someone first animates them in some way or another, and there's a variety of techniques. Cel animation, good old flip books, all the way to a dying art of rotoscoping. All of these are ways to bring a toon to life. And once the toon is brought to life the animator's role seems to be done, except it's not.

See for animators toons are like their children; they're very protective of them and keep their eye on them, even if the toon doesn't know it. Animators can alter the toon, change them in various ways, so long as the original or drawing exists, an animator, or any animator, can play around with the toon to have them fit in with a style of art. So animators are always trying to keep an ear out for how their toon is doing, and, for some, it goes beyond just keeping an eye out on their toon. That Toon becomes family, and that was why Arthur Lincoln was standing in the office of Detective Eddie Valiant on a muggy spring morning in 1950.

Eddie had gotten in early after a good night's rest, something he hadn't had in quite a few weeks. Ever since he'd dealt with Judge Doom… _twice_ …he'd been seeing a higher increase in people contacting him for cases, both Human and toon alike. Word on the street was if you had a case that was unsolvable Eddie Valiant was your guy.

On the one hand, it was great for business. Eddie was able to keep up with the bills and have enough to spare to take Delores out on nice dates every couple of weeks when the two had the time off. On the other hand the work load was more than he was used to and he had to turn away a few cases. In turn he would suggest other detective businesses for the customers to go to. He somewhat wished that he had a partner, but the idea of working with anyone but Teddy was still painful for him, so he hadn't considered it.

The last case he'd had was dealing with a stalker for Slappy Squirrel, who had tried to blow the guy up with dynamite. The sarcastic toon had been hard for him to deal with, she wasn't willing to give all the details that he needed, and –more than once –he had to stop the cops from putting her in jail for willful destruction of property. Thankfully, the whole thing cleared up when the stalker –a toon fan of hers –had gotten the message to leave her alone, when she dropped an anvil on him –twice.

After that, he'd held off on dealing with cases for a few days just to recharge. Walking up the stairs to his office, keys out of his pocket ready to get the door, he was slightly startled to see an elderly man standing by his door, half asleep, leaning against the frame. The man was dressed in brown trousers and a tan shirt, suspenders held up the pants, and a bow tie was around his neck. On his graying head he wore an old fashioned cap from the 1920s, and was clean shaven, as far as Eddie could tell.

Approaching slowly Eddie reached out his hand and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Hey, pal, you okay?"

The older man snorted, but didn't move; Eddie gave his shoulder a shake, causing the man to stir, and brush him off.

"What's the idea," the old man said as he opened his eyes. "Young man, don't you know how to wake someone up?"

 _Young man?_ Eddie thought, and shook his head. He hadn't been called young since the 1930s. The older man glanced up at him as if waiting for an apology, one which Eddie didn't give.

"You're sleeping on my door, and I've gotta get in," Eddie held up the key to the man, who just stared at him confused.

"You lost, or something?"

Again the old man eyed him up, figuring out every detail. Eddie didn't like it.

"Listen, if you're waiting for someone, you've gotta move."

"I ain't moving till I get to meet the Detective that runs this place. Valiant and Valiant. I hear he can solve anything."

"Well that's me, I'm Eddie Valiant," Eddie sighed and pushed the older man away from the door so he could unlock it. He pulled the door open and went in, followed by the old man, who cocked an eye brow and scratched his head.

"You're Eddie Valiant?"

"That's just what I said," Eddie set down his hat on the desk and took off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack near the window. The place was the same as it had always been. Still the small set up he and his brother had run. The twin desks facing one another, the one Teddy used still a shrine to memorialize his younger brother, nothing moved on it since his passing. Save for the dust, which Delores had helped him clean up. In fact _that_ was the only difference in the room since the day Roger had walked into his life. There was a sense of cleanness in the place, a breath of fresh air, something Eddie welcomed now after the case had become a memory.

"You don't look like him." The old man said as Eddie motioned to a chair for him to sit in. The old man sat down and Eddie followed suit looking at him curiously.

"I don't?" _What the hell is that supposed to mean_ , he wondered as the old man leaned over and gazed at him with squinted eyes.

"Nope, not a bit."

Eddie rubbed his forehead. He dared to ask, "What do you mean, I don't look like Eddie Valiant? How's Eddie Valiant supposed to look?"

"Taller, more muscles," the old man said and shook his head, "More like Superman. You're a lot older, and shorter, not at all built like you should be."

Eddie flinched at the remarks about his height. He wasn't really concerned so much about his looks –except when he was out with Delores for a show, but normally he'd just do a once over of himself and get to the office.

"And where did you get that idea?"

The old man pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. "From that. That's how I drew you."

Eddie took the paper and unfolded it. Inside was a drawing of a younger version of himself, or at least what the old man seemed to think he looked like –a cross between Dick Tracy and Clark Kent: tall, broad shouldered, with a sharp brown trench coat and matching fedora. Eddie chuckled and handed the drawing back to the old man.

"No…No, no, no. I don't know who _that_ is supposed to be. But that is not me."

"I can see that Detective Valiant," the old man said putting away the drawing. "But I drew you based on what that young rabbit described to me."

"Young rabbit…" Eddie paused as the old man motioned with his hands describing him.

"Yes, young rabbit. Short-ish, with big blue eyes," he put up his hands by his ears, "long wiggly ears, all white, with red hair. Wears a pair of red overalls and has a blue and yellow polka-dotted bow tie. He works at Maroon Studios, I believe."

"Roger," muttered Eddie and the old man nodded.

"Yes! That was his name. Roger Rabbit. He recommended I come see you. Met him when I was at Maroon looking for my son. I couldn't get in to see Mr. Maroon, but that young rabbit was so kind. He actually listened to what I had to say, and then told me where I could find you." He paused and made a face, "Although you don't strike me as the drinking sort, Detective. He said I should go to the Liquor store to get your address."

"Formerly," Eddie stated and motioned to his brother's desk. The older man looked it over and noticed the clipping about the death of Theodore Valiant, then quickly put things together.

"Ah, I see; I am truly sorry for your loss."

Eddie nodded and cleared his throat. "So Mr…."

"Lincoln, Arthur Lincoln," the man held out his hand and Eddie shook it. "Pleased to meet you Detective Valiant. You'll excuse my less then polite behavior earlier. I haven't been sleeping so well since…" he looked around the room as if trying to control his emotions. His eyes lingered on some of the news clippings that Eddie had on the wall, particularly the ones that had Toons in them. He stood up and walked over to a wall to examine a few, then reached up gingerly and took one down; Eddie observing his actions.

For a while Arthur regarded at the article and then looked back at Eddie, back down, and –after much muttering to himself –looked Eddie in the eye. "Do you like Toons, Detective Valiant?"

"Well I wouldn't be taking their cases if I didn't," Eddie told him, not mentioning that a few years before the answer would have been very different. "Why do you want to know, Mr. Lincoln?"

Mr. Lincoln smiled, "It's not easy to find people that understand Toons. They're so…"

"Unusual," Eddie offered and Arthur scowled some.

"Unique."

"That's certainly a way to describe them," Eddie agreed as the old man sat down, with the framed clipping in his lap.

"Yes, it certainly is," the older man looked almost peaceful for the moment, and his eyes lingered out the window. "Detective…I..." he paused again, and looked back at the news clipping and seemed to go off into his own world again.

This was becoming slightly frustrating to Eddie. He didn't know what was going on with the elderly man that was in his office and was starting to wonder if he was just slightly off his rocker. Eddie folded his hands and looked over his desk at his possible client.

"Mr. Lincoln." The man lifted his head when his name was mentioned. Eddie thought carefully how to phrase his next words, he didn't need the man misunderstanding him. "Can we cut to the chase here? You're clearly here about something, but I need to know what that is, or I can't help you."

Arthur sat back in the chair and pulled his cap down, "I see. Yes, I suppose I can trust you with this." He tipped his cap brim up and a serious glint came into his brow eyes. Eddie leaned forward on his desk, ready to hear the man out, pen and paper to take notes at a moment's notice. "I need you to find my son."

Eddie blinked, "Isn't that a police matter?"

"No, they can't help. They wouldn't even know where to look." Arthur shook his head and let out a whistle from between his teeth. "They have their own crimes to deal with."

"Your son how long has he been missing for?"

"Hmm, about two weeks." Arthur admitted and scrunched up his face. "He's a stubborn one; that's what he is. That boy is the sort that won't listen once he gets an idea in his mind; and believe me, he gets plenty of them."

"Two weeks, that's more than enough time to get the cops involved," Eddie stated as Arthur rubbed his thumbs over the frame. "Your kid's friends…has he got any that could be a bit rough around the edges? Has he been in trouble recently?"

Arthur shook his head, "I told you, Detective, they won't take this case. And, well….I don't know. We haven't been speaking since…well….since we had a fight."

Now he was getting somewhere; Eddie picked up his pen and added notes about the missing time and the fight. "What happened exactly, Mr. Lincoln?"

Arthur leaned back in the chair, hugging the framed article to his chest as he crossed his left ankle over his right knee. "Miles and I…we normally get along. He's always been a good kid, Detective. Smart, bright, and really friendly. Of course that was before work started to dry up."

"So he's been having trouble getting a job?"

Arthur gave a quick nod as he sniffed, "Hard to get work out here, what with the whole changes to the studios and all that."

Eddie peeked up from his notes at the man sitting across from him, "Your son works in pictures then?"

"Did," Arthur admitted and sat up. "I did too, before and during the war. But you know how old age gets to you, and well," he held up his hands showing Eddie that his fingers were starting to show signs of arthritis, "you can see, my hands aren't what they used to be; but yes, my son did work in Motion Pictures, Detective Valiant. And he was good at it too. So many of those young up-and-comers, like that Mouse, Mickey, have him to thank for coming up with routines."

Eddie's hand stopped writing and he gave a side glance to Arthur. "Mickey Mouse?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," Arthur looked down past his nose at Eddie. "You're getting this all; right Young man?"

"Oh I'm getting it all right," Eddie said, eyeing Arthur confused. "Ah, just how old is your son?"

"Let's see," Arthur stroked his chin thinking and whistled again through his teeth, "About twenty eight, just this year. Although he looks younger than that, people probably think he's only a kid given his height."

"His height?" Eddie asked, still holding onto the pen and Arthur smiled brightly.

"Yes, his height. He's only about two feet tall, although if you add the tail he's much longer. Here, take a look," The older man pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket. "That's a picture of me and my son about two years ago in '48. Heh, we haven't changed that much since. Though I'm getting grayer on top, but he's always been gray."

Eddie reached out and took the picture from Arthur who was dangling it from his fingers. Sitting back, and having a quizzical look on his face, Eddie unfolded the black and white photo only to be less then surprised to see Arthur in a nice dress suit standing with a woman, who had equally gray hair, dressed in a evening dress and a short toon mongoose –standing on two legs –dressed in a white dress jacket with black collar and buttons, and a black bow tie. The mongoose had its arm around Arthur's waist on one side and the woman's on the other; and what looked like some form of award statue standing on the floor by his feet. Both humans were looking down proudly at the mongoose who was happily looking up at them.

Eddie took a moment to compose himself, then spoke slowly, "Your son…is a toon mongoose?"

"That's right, Milton Mongoose, maybe you've heard of him?" Arthur beamed proudly as Eddie examined the picture.

"Ah, no, sorry, I haven't."

Arthur's face drooped, "Figures."

"Look, Mr. Lincoln, I'd be happy to help, but isn't this in the Toon Town jurisdiction?" Eddie set down the picture and Arthur shook his head.

"No, it's not. He's not been living in Toon Town since 1948, Detective. He's been living here in L.A. Trying to work with those…those…" Arthur clenched his fists and put down the frame hard on Eddie's desk. Eddie shot him a 'Watch it' look cautioning the elderly man's next action. Taking a breath Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, they're not exactly the most honest of business, Detective."

"So Milton's been living in L.A. for a while now?" Eddie tried to drag him back onto the subject. "What makes you think he's missing? Maybe he's moved to a different location."

"That's just the thing Detective," Arthur stood up and began to pace. "Even if Milton was mad at me he wouldn't just leave without telling Edna."

"Who's Edna?'

"My wife," Arthur motioned to the picture and as he again got up out of his chair and streched. "We were a happy family, Detective. Milton, me and Edna, just like it was when he first came to life. Oh that was a happy day. I was only twenty two at the time…you know. Young, strong, really just a kid, coming out of Ohio, working for a small studio at the time. Then one day, I come up with this idea, and draw out this silly hipster dressed mongoose, and that was it, I fell in love."

Moving over to a window Arthur looked outside on the street, and watched children play. "My wife and I met because of Milton. He'd been in two shorts at that time and she was a fan of his. You'd think he would be all flirty, but not my boy, not Miltie. No, he took Edna by the hand and walked her over to introduce her to me, telling her that I was his father, and that I was the one she should be impressed with. That was my boy for you, always thinking of others."

Eddie watched the man with a somber look on his face. There was clearly deep affection this man felt for his Toon. Arthur turned his head to look at Eddie as he clapped his hands behind his back and twiddled his thumbs. "Being an animator is a really trying job, Detective Valiant. People think Toons spring out of nowhere, but they don't. They come from us, and are a part of us. Each Toon we make is a part of the animator, and each animator lives on in their Toon."

"Must be hard, watching them go off on their own," Eddie remarked and Arthur gave a short nod.

"Yes, it can be. Time changes things Detective. When the studios started out they were small, tight knit, like a family." He waved his hand at the window, "Now, look at them. All glittery and huge. Staff all over the place, no one working side by side, everything is separated rather than together. And the world is getting like that too. People are moving out of the city, off to those new fancy homes in those newfangled communities. You can't just walk to the theater, you have to drive to get there now. It used to be where you had a show on every corner, throw in a penny and see a whole bunch of movies. Chaplin, Felix, Keaton, Betty, Helen Gibson, all of them stars, and you could sit there and watch them all. Now…that's all gone."

"Yeah, I remember," Eddie studied the man as he continued to stare out at the city below. It wasn't that long ago when he'd been younger and watched Betty Boop on the screen, or caught a short between movies and news reels.

"I'm glad someone does," Arthur gave him a small smile and he shrugged his shoulders. "Times change, and so do people I guess. Milton didn't though; at least not till recently. He seemed happy enough."

Eddie leaned forward again as the man took a seat, "Well why don't you tell me more about that fight you had with your, ah, son, Mr. Lincoln."

Arthur crossed his arms and rolled his head from side to side for a moment, as if limbering up for some extravagant routine he was about to do. "Well, what's there really to say? Son's fight with their fathers, right? It's a natural thing that happens as they grow. Sure Miltie and I have had our fair share of fights but this was one humdinger of one."

"You see, Milton's a black and white Toon. Not easy to get work for them now-a-days given that…well you know how studios are…all color and no character." Eddie again nodded, though he didn't quite get what Arthur was talking about. As far as he saw a lot of the newer Toons had character, but he thought it was best to keep that to himself for the moment and let the man talk. "So he'd been doing more of a theater circuit in Toon town, making a good name for himself there too, you know. Ever since that new Mayor's come into play, there's been some nice changes over there. So Milton started to go into the theater. Tennessee Williams, Agatha Christie, even Shakespeare –really Detective Valiant you should have seen his turn as Prospero in the Tempest."

"Is that what he got his award for?" Eddie asked holding up the picture and Arthur nodded.

"That's the one. He was so proud that night, we all were," he swallowed some. "But, like I said, things started to change. At first he wasn't visiting as much, so we thought that he was busy with more work, and then when he did show up he seemed depressed about things. And I asked him, 'Miltie, my boy, what's the matter?' and he told me 'It's nothing to worry about Pa,' so I tried not to. But then one day he said to me 'Pa, I'm thinking of moving to L.A. proper, you know, away from Toon Town.' And I asked him 'Well what for?' and that's when he told me that he was working on a special project and I thought, well this is great for him. So I helped him find a place to live, and it was hard, let me tell you, some of those landlords won't take a dime from a Toon, let alone let them live there."

Arthur rubbed his eye some, recalling the moments with his missing boy and Eddie handed him a hanky, which Arthur quickly used then put in his pocket. "I'll get this back to you Mr. Valiant."

"Keep it," Eddie said and kept writing, "So what was this project?"

"I don't know, Milton never told me. In fact he started to keep a lot of secrets after that. So one day when he was over to visit, I asked him 'Son, how's this work going?' and he told me it was just fine. That he was working really hard, but I knew that wasn't true because, well, Mr. Valiant, I keep in contact with most of my old friends at the studios, and they told me that they hadn't heard of a project for Black and White Toons." Arthur shook his head some, "I should have been less blunt with him, but I wanted him to be honest with us, so I said 'Son, I heard today that there is no project going on.' And you know what, he called me a liar, me his own father, a liar. So we had it out then and there, yelling and squawking like a bunch of chickens. Well at least he was squawking, I was actually shouting."

Eddie snorted some under his breath as Arthur went on. "So he told me he was going to show me and stormed out. And that was the last I saw of him. Edna convinced me to go and see him after a week, and when I went to his place the door was open and he was missing. The apartment was nice and clean, just as he normally left it, but the landlord said he hadn't seen Milton in almost a week before I showed up, and so I went around from Studio to Studio asking if anyone had seen him. The Police were no help, they didn't think it was that important, so I went to Maroon to ask if he had heard anything, since his brother had had Milton in a few Shorts a couple of years ago, and this brother of R.K. was too busy to see me. That's when I met Roger and he told me to come see you."

"And you're sure he didn't, you know, just take a trip without telling you?" Eddie asked again and Arthur shook his head. "He's had no prior problems with anyone? Not gotten involved with the wrong side of the law or the wrong Toons or people has he?"

"No, he's always been a good kid, Detective. Something's happened to him, he wouldn't just leave like this and not tell us."

Eddie stared at the man that sat before him. The haggard look on his face, the worry to his eyes, the lack of sleep was showing in his elderly face. Arthur pulled out his wallet, "Detective Valiant, you're my last hope on this. I'm willing to pay you anything to get my son back. Just please find him. I'm worried, his mother is too."

Eddie sighed and set down the pen, "Alright Mr. Lincoln, I'll see what I can do. I can't promise much, but I'll try to find Milton. Do you have any thing that could help? Addresses and names of friends and the like?"

Arthur nodded frantically and pulled out yet another folded piece of paper and handed it to Eddie, who took it and found his hand clasped suddenly by the older animator. "Thank you…So much. You have no idea what this means to me. This is all I can do to help you out right now. The last person to say they saw him was an old co-worker of his who said he was outside the Ink and Paint club talking to someone. But they don't know who the person was. That was on a Friday night around one in the morning."

Eddie gave the man a reassuring look as Arthur let his hand go. Pocketing the paper Eddie lead Arthur to the door promising that he would call or wire him if anything came up.

"Mind if I keep the picture?" Eddie asked and Arthur assured him that it was fine.

"You can use whatever you need to find my boy out there. Someone has got to have seen him Detective Valiant, they just have to have." Eddie agreed with him and Arthur thanked him once more before heading down the flight of stairs to the first floor. After shutting the door and watching out a window to make sure the old man got on a trolley line, Eddie pulled out the paper that Arthur had given him and looked at it as he hung up the framed news clipping again. The list was short, with only a few names on it, one though stuck out.

"Betty Boop," Eddie read and went over to grab his coat and hat. It seemed to him that his first stop was going to be the Ink and Paint club. He wondered if they were even open that early in the day. Heading outside he hurried after a trolley and sat on the back with some kids. After all, it was a bit cheaper and, more importantly, there was something special he needed to save up for.


End file.
